


Before The Otherness Came

by EzraTheBlue



Series: Destiny [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Breaking Up & Making Up, Discussion of Abortion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Relationship Issues, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: After Prompto's revelation to Ignis, Ignis must come to terms with the reality of their situation and decide how to go forward when there is no possible way to go back.(Side story toDefects and Destiny. Ignis' POV for the end of Chapter 8 and 9.)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Destiny [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562773
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	1. 1: Before The Otherness Came

**Author's Note:**

> As before, this fic is part of Defects and Destiny, so it will help if you've read that first!
> 
> The title comes from Hozier's ["As It Was."](https://youtu.be/v7q-4mfl_s4) I will not apologize for my strong association between Ignis and Hozier.
> 
> I'm certain those who have been following Defects and Destiny have been waiting for this one! This is Ignis' POV for the end of Chapter 8 and Chapter 9. He got super talkative, however, so I've broken this up into two chapters for easier reading. Please enjoy!

**1: Before The Otherness Came**

Prompto was pregnant.

Oh, Gods, Ignis had gotten him pregnant.

Ignis regretted letting Prompto convince him to make love to him without prophylactics, no matter how much he’d wanted to make love to Prompto when the opportunity arose. How could he resist? When the world was so cruel and cold, and Prompto’s arms were so warm and inviting, Ignis tossed caution to the wind for a few minutes’ respite. Now he was facing the consequences for his carelessness: the tiny bump on Prompto’s belly.

Nothing would ever be as it had been after this. All of Ignis’ plans were truly dashed now.

Ignis had dreamt of the day he and Prompto would marry. He'd thought of proposing after Noctis and Lunafreya's honeymoon, when they were all back in the Crown City sharing cake with strawberries in Noctis' wing of the Citadel. He relished the thought of Prompto in a white suit, taking his hand, wearing his ring, becoming his partner. He had saved enough money to purchase a home for them when the time was right, when he wasn't the only person responsible for Noctis' well-being and could move a little further from the Citadel. Perhaps in a few years' time, they could discuss their options. Adoption, first and foremost. Ignis loved children but had never fathomed his own, especially given that Prompto was both the only person Ignis loved enough to have a family with, and a man. Prompto may have had the equipment to carry a child, but Ignis had never considered asking him to use it. They could take in a child, like Prompto and Ignis themselves each had been, raise them as theirs, be a family. Nothing would have made him happier.

Instead, here Prompto stood, trembling next to the table in the caravan, tears in his eyes, as Ignis tried to recalculate his universe. They were alone, refugees in the wilderness, with no good money but the Gil they'd earned from Wiz, too young, completely unplanned, and Ignis' child was _inside Prompto, right now_.

Ignis let himself have a moment. Just one. He imagined nurturing a child he'd conceived with Prompto, a combination of them created as a result of their love. He let himself dream of pampering Prompto for nine months, of dedicating himself to a tiny creature entirely dependent on him, and of watching a child that was his flesh and blood grow and learn. He wondered if Prompto's perfect smile could be duplicated, even if it came from a face much like his own. Ignis would never have asked Prompto to carry their child in his body; Prompto may not have decided how much modification he needed to be content with himself, but surely that would push him to the limits of his comfort with his body. However, if Prompto would, could do him the honor carrying his progeny, then Ignis would worship him every second and be eternally grateful to him for his forbearance. 

What would they look like? Ignis knew that right now, they were far too small to look like anything. Perhaps with Prompto’s yellow hair, his precious freckles. They had to inherit his smile, his smile was infectious and surely would be genetic. Ignis would carve his heart out for one Prompto, but he would burn his very soul for two.

“Astrals,” he whispered fervently, running his hands back through his hair as the swell of emotion consumed him, then let that moment go.

It couldn’t happen. He _couldn't_ have it.

“Alright.” 

Ignis stood up and dusted his hands. “This can still be salvaged. Prompto, you don’t need me to tell you that the timing on this is exceptionally bad, but we are fortunately returning to Lestallum the day after tomorrow.” Prompto was still covering the tiny bump with his hands, and Ignis suppressed a sting of empathy. “We can consult a qualified doctor there and, with any luck, it won’t be too late to easily, painlessly -”

“Kill them?”

Ignis had never wished to hear any words less.

“Safely terminate.” Focus on the facts, he told himself. He knew what the risks were, he knew how badly this could go. If Prompto did want to carry the baby to term, his body would change, his balance would be ruined, he would hurt himself, trying to carry this to term could kill Prompto! Ignis didn’t like the answer, but it was the only logical decision. “I’m afraid there’s little choice here. We’re in danger every day.” Prompto’s face was only falling, and Ignis knew that it wasn’t a nice thing to have to deal with, but he had to make Prompto understand: “A traumatic miscarriage will be much more painful than a simple medical procedure.”

“But I’ll be careful!” Prompto clasped his hands as if he were praying, or begging, and Ignis’ chest tightened. “I’ve been super careful! I'm trying to keep them safe, I’ve been staying back in fights and still doing my best to help, you know how good of a shot I am!” Ignis steeled himself at the plaintive plea in Prompto’s voice, shaking his head. Prompto made him weak, but he couldn't let him get hurt over sentiments, not now. He still plead on, even in the face of Ignis' silent rebuke: “I’ll get a sight and go further back!”

It was as if Prompto hadn’t heard a word Ignis had said. Ignis felt frustration sting his throat like acid, but forced it down. “Prompto, the recoil on a larger caliber weapon will be just as risky.” Prompto’s face fell again, and Ignis fought back anger and sorrow in equal measures. “Your incident with that sonic blaster should have told you how dangerous that can be. The audible register on such a weapon, as well - you’re as likely to deafen the thing, if the vibrations don’t cause some form of trauma!”

Prompto flinched, but renewed his plea: “I’ve been alright so far! Please, I’m doing alright, I’m trying to keep up! I’m still protecting Noct!”

Something in Ignis _gave._ “How can you protect Noctis when you’re putting so much thought into protecting yourself?”

The shock was plain on Prompto’s face, but it was true: their duty was to Noctis. Ignis let himself be with Prompto when his duties were done, or when he was given a reprieve, but Noctis came first! Prompto had to understand the sacrifices one made when one accepted such a position! Even Prompto’s next words told Ignis he had an inkling: “I… No, no, I… Noctis comes first, but I -”

“You said enough. Noctis comes first.” Ignis imitated the bow he would give to Regis and Noctis, his hand across his breast. “My duty to Noctis is my life, and you dedicated yourself to the same.” His eyes dropped away from Prompto. “I’ve had to put my personal desires on the back burner, at best. Just the same, if you are dedicated to Noctis, your own interests are secondary, if not tertiary.” He lifted his chin, stiff upper lip and firm expression. “If you are truly committed to our mission, then you know what the correct choice is here.”

Prompto was wide-eyed a second longer, but then his expression sank. Ignis’ knees quaked under him - he hated to hurt Prompto so, but it was this or put Prompto in much greater danger. Even if the end result of that risk was something - some _one_ \- that Ignis would love, what would Ignis do with that _someone_ when they got here? Take them on the run with them? Leave them and Prompto behind? Perhaps someday, when the world was safe again, Ignis could talk to Prompto about having a family, about living happily ever after, but Ignis couldn’t see that happening any time soon. All there was now was living, and Ignis couldn’t let Prompto die over someone who was not yet alive.

Even if forcing Prompto to do this would kill a small part of himself.

“Maybe,” Prompto mumbled after a moment, “But that’s just the thing. It’s _my_ choice.” Ignis’ temper flared, but his heart sank as Prompto looked up, sad defiance plain in his eyes. “I _chose_ to come with Noctis when he invited me. I _chose_ to try and fix my medicine instead of bothering you with it.” Ignis grimaced as Prompto wound himself up. “When I found out about the baby, I _chose_ to keep them. And if - or when - it looks like I can’t keep up, if I’m getting in your way, then I’ll choose to leave.”

 _No!_ It took everything in Ignis’ composure not to shout. Prompto would leave?! Just walk away, when they’re in the middle of a war?! “The Empire likely knows your face now,” Ignis told him, biting back at every word and unable to hold back the fury building in him: “You would face them alone?!”

Prompto’s shoulders tensed, but his tone remained infuriatingly light. “It's a risk I'm willing to take. Better than your idea, anyway. I look Niff, anyway.” Ignis noticed him touching his leather wristband and breaking eye contact. “They'll likely think I'm a defector.” Then, it happened: the horrible smile. “If you'd like, I could try to get 'em off your scent! I’ll make one helluva decoy, won’t I?” 

Ignis suddenly felt horribly sick.

“Yeah, they probably won’t kill a pregnant person, right?” Prompto was still beaming, but Ignis could feel him faking it, could see the way his face pulled like he would rather be crying. “I lead 'em the wrong way for as far as I can run, give you guys a good chance to evade them. They'll probably capture me, at worst, and lock me up when they realize I'm not important.”

No, Ignis wanted to say, you _are_ important, that’s why we have to terminate, it’s the only way you’ll be safe! He couldn’t choke the words out, too caught up at the thoughts of Prompto not listening to him, Prompto _leaving_ him, Prompto in danger - 

“I’m sure I can survive being a prisoner of war. Noct’ll get his mission done before long, I know he will with you helping him.”

Ignis couldn’t stop a nasty retort: “You fool, do you really think-”

“It’s okay.” Prompto smiled again, and Ignis felt his rejection like a punch to the chest. “Look, I told you ‘cause you had me dead to rights. I had meant to way before now, but I hadn’t figured out how, and then I realized it probably didn't matter whether or not I told you.” He slid his hand over his middle. “Maybe I shouldn't've.” His face fell, looking past the tiny bump that he was covering - _protecting it from Ignis._ “Thing is, I figured you wouldn’t want to be tethered to someone like me. It’s been nice, though.” The sick, horrific feeling rushed back, as Ignis realized what Prompto was doing. “Nobody’s ever loved me before, really, or at least made me feel like they did. I mean, Noct, but that’s more like a brother, right? For a while, it felt nice knowing you wanted me.” No, Ignis wanted to say, _no_ , but Prompto shook his head as he ran his hand down the contour of his middle. “But I didn’t ask you to want this, and I can’t make you. It’s my body, my baby, and my decision. You don’t have to support my decision, my kid, or me.” Then he looked up and put that terrible smile back on. “I won't be your problem anymore. I won't get in your way, either.” He grinned wider than ever: “Just don’t poison my food or anything, okay? I don’t think you’d actually try it, but if you try to make me lose the baby and it kills me instead, I’ll totally haunt you.”

Prompto was breaking up with him instead of facing the truth. Prompto would rather push Ignis away than save his own skin!

Ignis tried to work up a protest, but Prompto was already turning away, as if there were nothing more to be said. “Prompto!” Ignis tried to give chase, but Prompto was already slamming the door in his face. He stood, stunned for a moment at his brisk dismissal, head buzzing, ears ringing.

This couldn’t be happening - Prompto would rather walk away than see sense! Ignis pushed out the caravan door to see Prompto’s vanishing back. Noctis and Gladio both turned towards him, Gladio frowning curiously, and Noctis somewhere between angry and confused.

“Hey, Iggy, the hell did you say to him?” 

Ignis’ anger spoke first: “Never you mind that. That’s between myself and Prompto. Where is he going?”

“Said he was gonna walk it off,” Gladio muttered. “Maybe give him a few minutes. He clearly took it harder coming from you.” He shot Ignis a significant look, and Ignis swallowed hard.

“Let me go find him.” He marched away in the same direction he’d seen Prompto jogging and followed out towards the edge of the lights. Anger still burned in him - he could just throttle him! - he had to convince him to see sense! - but then he spotted him.

Curled up on the ground in the last patch of light before the darkness. Heaving with wretched, painful-sounding sobs.

Ignis stopped cold for a moment. Ignis’ shadow cast long over Prompto’s form in the dust. He reached for him, longing to pick him back up, to tell him it was okay and push away the hurt like he always did when Prompto was low. 

Ignis had never been the cause of his pain before. He knew he was right, but he hated that it had to hurt, and he hadn’t realized it had hurt this much.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

Prompto had made clear where Ignis stood with him. It wasn’t at his side. 

* * *

Ignis returned to the caravan and finished cooking dinner for the others. He poured Prompto a bowl of soup and left it by his usual chair. Prompto never came to pick it up.

Ignis picked away at a game of King’s Knight after Noctis goaded him into it, but he couldn’t focus. Not when his gaze kept drifting to Prompto’s player name, grayed-out on the bottom of the screen.

When it came time for them to sleep, Gladio sprawled out on the fold-out cot, leaving enough room for Prompto to crawl in later, as Noctis and Ignis each took one of the bunks. Ignis tried to force his eyes shut, but every time he did, his mind swirled with horrible thoughts, of Prompto running and running and never returning, of Prompto dead and finding his gun and boots left tattered in the dirt somewhere, Prompto dead of his own foolishness because Ignis couldn’t stop him.

Then, he thought of Prompto somewhere light, warm and safe, hugging a golden-haired child and laughing and laughing ‘til tears came to his eyes.

Ignis’ face was wet and he couldn’t fathom why. He also couldn’t close his eyes anymore.

He stood from his bunk and went to the caravan window, peering out as far as he could, but only saw long shadows, distant lights, the embers of their fire, the silhouettes of the trees. No Prompto. He paced for a few minutes, his heels clicking on the floor only contributing to his burgeoning annoyance - _impertinent child of a man, he can be so immature, he doesn’t realize what he’s doing! -_ but when he peeked again, still no sign of Prompto.

Ignis couldn’t enumerate just how long he paced. However, Prompto still didn’t appear, and all Ignis could hear anymore was his own heartbeat, his heels clicking on the floor, and the distant wind. Then, a sound from the top bunk, a soft groan:

“Specs?” Noctis had opened his eyes and sat up. “Somethin’ the matter?”

Ignis grasped at all of his remaining willpower to force some semblance of dignity. “Prompto hasn’t returned.”

“Oh.” Noctis pulled a face. “Maybe he stopped somewhere to rest or something after his run. Hope he’s not gone too far.” Ignis grimaced at the thought, but Noctis smacked his lips. “You wanna go after him?”

“No,” Ignis murmured, “I want to see if he comes back on his own.”

Noctis grumbled again, and Ignis could see his eyes fixing on him in the dark. Then he rolled over with a mumble of “whatever you say,” and Ignis returned his attention to the window.

No Prompto. Not even his shadow. 

* * *

No Prompto. Not even in the morning.

Ignis didn’t recall sleeping the entire night, and he could already feel the effects of the restlessness in his bones as he stared down into a pot of rice porridge. Ignis had paced and stood by the window, watching for Prompto until the sun rose and he realized it was time to make breakfast for everyone. He couldn’t recall every moment of the night, and wondered if he had possibly slept on his feet unintentionally. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to recall.

He saw a flash in his mind’s eye of Prompto, maybe in his old house in Insomnia, maybe in Ignis’ tiny apartment, down on his knees with a small child with a blanket around their shoulders and Prompto talking to them with a big smile on his face. A flash of Prompto hugging a laughing toddler with green eyes. A flash of Prompto in a dark cell, alone and afraid with tear tracks running down his cheeks.

Ignis concluded that he may have slept shallowly on his feet.

“Prompto’s still not back?” Ignis hadn’t heard Gladio emerging from the caravan, and turned to see him looking around the camp site, hair still mussed and tangled. Ignis stared at him for a long moment, until he realized that was a _question_ , meant to be answered.

“I haven’t seen him, no.” He returned his attention to the porridge, but now that he was aware of Gladio, he couldn’t not be aware of Gladio. Gladio sauntered closer.

“And you ain’t worried about that, at all?”

Anger spurred, Ignis muttered a terse, “Were you not recently complaining about me _babying_ him?”

Ignis’ tongue went numb.

Gladio didn’t seem to notice Ignis’ immediate distress as that word fell off of his tongue, instead making a noncommittal grunt and staggering back in to shower. Noctis emerged a few minutes later, showered and dressed, and he, too, looked around. 

“No Prompto?”

Ignis couldn’t trust himself to speak, and instead shook his head. Noctis pulled a face, then stalked off. “I’ll find him.” 

Ignis didn’t say anything. He stared down into the porridge, watching the bubbles rise through the gruel, feeling just as thick and slow. 

Ignis lost track of time again, going through the motions of making a simple breakfast, serving, and setting out dishes. He put one bowl out, which Gladio took as he emerged from the caravan again. Noctis arrived back just as Ignis put down a second bowl.

“He fell asleep out there! He said he was stalking a garula and conked out waiting for a good shot. Can you believe it?” Noctis chuckled a little as he took his bowl. “He’ll be back in a minute, I warped a few times to make him chase me.”

Ignis grimaced and poured a third bowl, then a fourth, and left them on his work table. He didn’t know if he’d be able to eat, but he had to keep up appearances, he had to try. The world was going to keep moving whether or not Ignis had a plan for it.

He hadn’t considered at all what he would do about Prompto if he did return. What was he supposed to do? Try again to convince Prompto that he should end the pregnancy? Try to make nice with him until Prompto decided to pull his vanishing act for real? 

Give in and embrace that he was going to be a parent in the midst of this chaos, whether he liked it or not?

“There you are,” Gladio rumbled, and Ignis heard soft, trudging footbeats. “So, Noct said you were trying to get a good picture and -?”

“Fell asleep in the dirt, yeah.” Prompto’s voice was strained and scratchy. Ignis wondered just how long he’d laid there, crying. Had Noctis found him in the exact same spot where Ignis had left him the night before? “Guess I’m picking up that stupid ‘can sleep anywhere’ thing from Noct. Guess we’re packin’ up after breakfast?”

“Yeah, go on and get some, you didn’t eat dinner last night,” Noctis said, and Ignis steeled himself at the thought of Prompto ( _and the baby he so coveted_ ) starving, both angry at Prompto for his steadfast defiance, and at himself for letting Prompto and his unborn child go hungry.

“If you should be unsatisfied with breakfast, there is a plate of leftovers in the Armiger's cooler for you.”

Prompto jumped when he spoke. Ignis caught it out of the corner of his eye. Then, he pulled his face into a false smile, jerking towards him like a puppet operated by a drunken master. "Oh! That sounds, um, great. Thanks." Ignis squeezed his eyes shut, damming back a reaction at the way Prompto's voice even sounded like it was being squeezed out of him. Ignis didn't dare look as Prompto's pale hand slipped in the corner of his view to take the bowl. His fingers were shaking. "Uh, think I’ll start with breakfast, though.”

Ignis glanced to him for as long as he dared, but Prompto had already turned around. Fine, so be it. Ignis had better things to do than work himself into a frenzy over his childish… _ex_ -lover. He considered, for a moment, that perhaps a night of contemplation would have calmed Prompto, grounded him enough to see sense. All Ignis needed was a chance to talk to him, calm and collected, show Prompto he wasn’t saying what he’d said to hurt him, explain that this hurt Ignis as much as it did Prompto, but that it simply was what needed to be done. 

It would hurt Ignis a great deal. Only now was Ignis actually realizing how much it did hurt to force Prompto to give up something he wanted, and something that Ignis wanted too, just because of the terrible timing. If they were anywhere but here, if this had happened anytime but now, Ignis was certain he would welcome it with open arms.

And yet Prompto refused to acknowledge that what he wanted was purely impossible!

Ignis put his focus completely on the work. He could hear the others talking, Noctis and Gladio lightly joking back and forth, Prompto making a token effort to contribute. However, what Ignis heard more keenly was the steady drag and clink of Prompto’s spoon through the bowl of porridge. He was just playing with it, not eating it.

Some of Prompto’s words from the night before floated back to him: _“Just don’t poison my food or anything, okay?”_

The steady clink of Prompto lifting and dropping his spoon without bringing it to his lips was all Ignis could hear. Did Prompto actually think he would sink that low to have his way? Did Prompto think Ignis so cold, so calculating, so driven to achieve his own desires that he would _poison_ someone he loved to get what he wanted?

 _Clink_.

“Right, Iggy?” Noctis was looking at him, talking to him. Prompto turned his spoon over again, staring forlornly into the porridge. Noctis leaned forward, and Ignis realized Noctis wanted him to respond, “Nothing, Igs?”

“No. Apologies.” Ignis forced himself to focus on the washing-up. Prompto’s spoon clinked against the bottom of the bowl again, and Ignis tuned out the conversation again.

Prompto wasn't eating. Ignis wanted to nourish him, and Prompto was rejecting it. Did he really think Ignis turned off his affections that quickly? That Ignis truly didn't care for him on the back of one major disagreement? 

“Be nice to see her again, huh?”

"Huh?" Ignis glanced around at Prompto's confusion, and the clink of his spoon in the bowl again. Ignis recalled Noctis saying something about tuning up the Regalia. Cindy. The fake smile that tugged Prompto's mouth confirmed it. “Oh, yeah. It’s been a while! Sure be nice to see if she’s gotten any prettier.”

Ignis felt anger stir like dust under a Garula's stomping hoof. Cindy. Ignis had suppressed his jealousy when Prompto had been impressed with her beauty before, and now of all times they were taking his lamb back to her slaughter! Even so, perhaps it wasn't the worst idea. If Prompto did so want to leave, he could stay at Hammerhead. He'd be relatively safe, even if Cindy was likely a man-eating barracuda of a woman -

“Well," Gladio rumbled with a little venom on his tongue, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. Hopefully it’s not a multiples factor, since zero times anything...”

"Ha! Haha. Yeah, funny, funny." Ignis arched his back at that fake laugh, straining against anger at Prompto's dismissive mien, how he could pretend to be so calm when he was pulling Ignis apart without a word! Then, he said it: “Keep up the ‘nobody likes Prompto’ jokes, wouldn't want me to get a big head.”

The bloody idiot was throwing himself a pity party, _and there he goes with the damned spoon again!_

Again, Ignis snapped; he pounded his palm on the table, pivoted around, and shouted, “Eat, damn you! It’s not poisoned!”

Then he actually laid eyes on Prompto for the first time that morning. 

Prompto had dust on his face, in his hair, on his clothes. He was pale, nearly blue even in plain daylight, with deep dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers were shaking as he grasped the bowl close to his chest. He wasn't faking a smile anymore. His face worked for a second, and Ignis thought he might start crying again like he obviously had been for hours, but instead, he tightened his hand around his spoon and shoveled a mouthful in. Ignis watched him take the first few bites, and could practically see him turning green.

_The morning sickness. He's nauseous and you shouted at him for it._

Ignis' own conscience taunted him with that every time Prompto's spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Noctis dropped his bowl near Ignis and growled into his ear, "Specs, the hell is wrong with you?"

"Apologies," Ignis murmured. "I slept poorly, and that noise was grating on me." 

"Yeah? Well, Prompto's looking off too, so ease up on him, alright?" Noctis huffed out an impatient sigh. "I'm gonna go buy curatives. Do me a favor and don't scream at anyone while I'm gone."

"I was not-" Ignis started to protest, but Noctis had already strolled off towards the nearby convenience store. Ignis reflected, and realized that he'd certainly raised his voice more than he'd intended. Only Prompto could drive him to such emotional strain without even trying, it seemed.

The grass behind Ignis rustled, and Ignis glanced back to see Prompto tiptoeing closer, looking distinctly uncomfortable, carrying his empty bowl in shaking fingers. He put the bowl in the wash water and reached for the rag. Ignis halted him by taking hold of his wrist, gripping it to stop him in place. "Stop. I'll deal with this." He jerked his head away. "Go pack." 

Ignis knew he and Prompto had to discuss their differences again. However, neither of them were mentally prepared for that undertaking in this moment, and Ignis didn't want to stress Prompto any further than he obviously already was. Prompto winced as Ignis held his arm in place, and Ignis realized he was squeezing. He let go, and Prompto stepped back.

"Of course." His gaze dipped to the ground. "Thank you for breakfast, Ignis."

Never had his own name sounded so vile. It sounded fundamentally wrong for Prompto to say his full name. Ignis stared blankly at Prompto for a moment, waiting, though he didn't know what he was waiting for. Prompto, however, just jerked himself back around and fast-walked towards the caravan with some excuse about taking a shower. Ignis continued cleaning up.

When he went into the caravan to find his shaving kit ten minutes later, he heard Prompto retching and sobbing in the stall, confirming all of Ignis' suspicions. He left quickly, hoping to preserve some of Prompto's dignity by letting him have his privacy. 

Instead, he shaved in the caravan's kitchen sink, broke down the work table and tried to think of other ways to help Prompto see sense. Perhaps the nausea could be used as a point - _think how miserable you are every morning, it must be sapping your strength_ \- or his lost appetite - _you need to eat if you're going to fight_ \- or maybe all the other miserable things about pregnancy. Prompto couldn't go on as he was. He was already looking too pale and thin, he'd been looking ill for weeks - _who will take care of you?_

_I should._

Ignis swallowed hard on that thought as he folded up his work table. He tossed the dishwater into the remnants of their fire and began to pack the car. As he did, Gladio strolled up and propped himself along the side of the Regalia.

"Quite a show you put on there. Don't think I've seen that side of you in a while."

"I have no idea what you mean." Ignis knew playing dumb never worked on Gladio, but if nothing else, denial put a wall between Gladio and his personal business. "I do apologize if I've been short with you-"

"Short, not so much. Vacant and spacy, sure." Gladio crossed his arms. "But you did actually shout at Prompto. You've never raised your voice at him. So, I gotta ask again: What the hell went down between you and Prompto last night?"

Ignis' lower eyelid twitched involuntarily. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gladio spun on Ignis, hitting the side of the car as he went. "You fucking liar." Ignis grimaced but kept cramming his equipment into the trunk. "Look, whatever it is, I don’t care, but don’t you dare let this get in the way of our duty to Noct." Gladio pointed at him as if accusing or condemning. "Either kiss and make up or get over yourself enough to talk to him civil. What you said the other day is just as true for you and him as it is for me and him: Noct doesn’t need to deal with friction between us. There’s too much riding on this road trip.”

Ignis grimaced. He had only just had to tell Gladio to ease up on Prompto, hadn't he? Prompto had been struggling for weeks, even before he had found out about the baby based on what he'd said the night before. His own words jabbed at him: Prompto had been trying his best. He wasn't as extensively trained as he or Gladio. He had clearly been struggling with the change in their lifestyles, but surely he was doing his best to adapt. Perhaps the different food on the road wasn't agreeing with him, or the altitude changes were affecting him. They shouldn't be so harsh with him, the road they were on was difficult enough.

Ignis hadn't known about the parasite he'd picked up since they left the Crown City then. Maybe if he'd asked Prompto about his clinic visit sooner, this could have been dealt with by now.

( _Or maybe Prompto would have run away already_ , his treacherous heart reminded him.)

"Hmph." Ignis sealed his mouth, unwilling to give Gladio even one inch more. Gladio was obviously winding up again, but mercy came in the form of more punishment: Prompto, yawning loudly as he trotted over to join them, his bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry I took so long!" He beamed at Gladio, though his gaze skittered away from Ignis. "Can I help?” 

Gladio shot Ignis a fierce look that promised Ignis that he wasn't going to drop this conversation, but put on a big, friendly smile for Prompto and took the duffel bag he was carrying. "Nah, Iggy here’s got the car, see?" He motioned towards the extinguished fire. "Go on and fold the chairs and bring ‘em over. We’ll be on the move soon.”

Prompto looked uncomfortable already, shifting his weight. Ignis could see his shadow swaying, as he refused to look up from the trunk to take him in. He could almost feel the tension rolling off of Prompto in waves, as he mumbled, "Okay," then asked, more brightly, "Can I drive? It’s been a while since I had a turn. I gotta pull my weight, and all-"

"No," Ignis barked, sharper than he meant to. Prompto flinched, even as Gladio slapped Ignis on the back (surely just to annoy him, of course), and chuckled. 

“Yeah, gonna agree with the Igster here. You look dog tired, we don’t need to get driven off the road today.”

"Sure." Prompto was obviously crestfallen as he trotted away to pick up what was left of the campsite. Gladio dropped his false cheer and turned back to Ignis. 

"You ain't lookin' much better," he growled. "I get the feeling you said something to him you shouldn't have. You two work it out. I can't risk either of you coming in at anything less than one hundred percent effort. I'm sure whatever you said needed to be said, but he looks like he’s ten seconds from cracking.” Gladio jerked his head towards Prompto. “Plus, he upchucked _again,_ what the fuck? Didn’t you send him to see a doctor like a _month_ ago?”

Ignis grimaced and lowered his eyes, looking at his own feet under the bumper. “He would have said something if anything significant came of it.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Either way. We gotta figure out his deal.” Gladio shook his head and walked away, and Ignis stilled as the words lingered.

Had Prompto thought _himself_ so insignificant in the face of everything else that he didn’t think it was worth it to speak up? 

_A secondary or tertiary concern, at best._

Or perhaps he was just afraid of what Ignis, let alone Gladio or Noctis, would say. Looking at Prompto slouching around the camp now, Ignis could see just how hurt he was. His revelation had been a double-edged sword. 

Ignis forced himself to focus on the road when they set off, guzzling a can of Ebony in an effort to wake himself up, as Prompto slouched in the back seat beside Noctis, staring out the window and restlessly fidgeting. Noctis had fallen right back asleep after giving Ignis a bearing towards some garula hunting grounds. He’d picked up a hunt for four garula in exchange for a nice chunk of pocket money, and from the joking conversation Noctis had with Gladio, one extra, just for the steak. 

Ignis felt his nerves more keenly than his exhaustion at that point. Prompto would be on this hunt with them, facing creatures ten times his size with nothing but his pistols and whatever heavy weapons he’d scrounged from the Magitek soldiers. However, there were two Garula just ripe for the picking, with a Garulessa for their bonus steak. Ignis’ fingers shook as Noctis gave quiet directions from the long grasses, just out of their sights. “Gladio, flank left. Specs, flank right. Prompto, maintain position and aim for the heads, but use defensive fire to keep them from running. I'll open with a warp strike on the big one. Move.”

Ignis swallowed hard as Noctis and Gladio each got ready to strike, the tension thrumming in the air like someone had struck a low chord on an untuned guitar, and Ignis could only envision Prompto being knocked down, knocked out, bloodied, hurt in some irreparable way, him and the baby damaged.

As Prompto made to move into position, Ignis put himself between Prompto and danger and pushed Prompto back. “Get back.”

Prompto went wide-eyed. “What?”

Ignis shoved him again. “Stay out of the way!” He couldn’t figure out any other words to get the severity of the situation across in time, and as Prompto stumbled back, he ran to get into position himself, flying at the Garula Noctis had directed him to strike at first. He battled the beast back with his spear, but as he looked past it, he saw Prompto on his feet, giving cover fire with his pistol - keeping his distance, but too close to the action.

_No!_

Prompto fired a Piercer shot at the Garula Noctis was fighting, but though it struck true, it only made the beast mad. Noctis warped away as he was thrown, and shouted: “Gonna need more than that!”

Gladio, still tied up with the Garula he was fighting, yelled, “Your peashooter ain't jack against hide like that!”

Prompto’s jaw quavered, and his eyes flashed to Ignis, pleading for a moment for help, for mercy, for _anything_ , but Ignis only felt anger - _you fool, you got yourself into this!_ He threw a dagger past Prompto towards the Garulessa, knocking it back to give Prompto space. “What do you think you're doing?!” Get out of there, he wanted to say, but he didn’t get the chance, because Prompto gritted his teeth and reached into the Armiger.

 _No!_ Ignis wanted to scream it now, as Prompto got his bearings, his jaw set firmly, and Ignis watched with horror as he summoned the circle saw he’d taken off of one of the mechs. 

“Noct!” Prompto got a running start. “Gimme a boost!” 

Noctis gave Prompto an arm to bound off of, and Prompto jumped high, twisting in the air, then came down on the Garulessa’s neck with the saw on his arm. 

Ignis saw a thousand ways this could go wrong, Prompto bucked back, crashing to the ground, injuring himself on that weapon, mangled on his own efforts _because Ignis hadn’t protected him!_ A scream escaped him, a denial, Prompto’s name, a plea to the Gods to protect him because Ignis couldn’t, all mangled together in a single noise that escaped him as Ignis scrambled past the corpse of the Garula he’d felled towards them. 

Miraculously, Prompto landed on his feet a few yards away from the Garulessa’s body, stumbling a little and soaked in blood, but whole and healthy. Noctis tumbled away and jumped to his feet, turning to give Prompto a high-five. 

"Nice moves." Noctis grinned at Prompto as if today were any other day. Perhaps because to him, it was, but as Ignis picked himself up, he had to catch his breath from the burst of panic that came with seeing Prompto throwing his life away. Prompto smiled back at Noctis, clearly weary, but Noctis' smile dropped from sincere to dry. “You're covered in blood, though.”

Prompto tugged the bottom of his tank top out a little and winced. Ignis' breath caught again. Prompto didn't notice, instead saying, “It comes out." He smoothed his shirt back down, and Ignis couldn't help but notice the way his hand gingerly traveled down his front. "I hope Ignis got the good detergent.”

"Ig _nis_?" Noctis frowned, head tipped to the side. "Jeez, Specs must've really ground your gears-”

" _Holy shit_ ," Gladio was laughing as he came up behind Ignis, dragging the Garula he and Ignis had taken down. "The _noise_ you made when Blondie jumped!" Ignis felt his cheeks heat viciously, as Gladio shouted, "Hey, chocobutt, watch the acrobatics! Igs damn near had an aneurysm when you busted out that saw! You'll kill someone if you're not careful.”

Ignis quickly recomposed himself and began to clean his gloves as he regrouped with the others, avoiding their gazes and biting his tongue as hard as he could. Prompto winced, and dismissed the circle saw. “I’ll save it for special occasions.” He shook his filthy hands off, and Ignis found himself glaring at the blood covering Prompto’s chest. 

“Hmph. Let's just dress this one before it attracts flies.”

Ignis summoned his field dressing kit and focused on the task at hand, stripping off all of the edible parts as quickly as he could. Prompto was ready with vacuum-seal bags and moved the entrails and other inedible pieces out of the way, but Ignis could tell he was keeping his distance from Ignis.

Ignis’ chest was still shaking from yelling, as if his own fear had stabbed him through the lungs and torn his the cry from him when it was yanked back. 

The rest of the hunt went to plan, as much as any hunt could. They located and took down two more lone Garula. Ignis strained to stay on task, tearing his way through each fight.

Prompto kept his distance, but then, he’d promised he would, hadn’t he?

Gladio whistled when he examined the hide of the last Garula. “Prompto, nice grouping. You actually did some real damage.”

Prompto looked pleased, despite his tiredness. “All in a day's work!” Ignis heard him hum a tune he could have sworn he heard in one of Noctis’ games, and had to strain not to smile. Despite everything, Prompto was being his usual cheerful self, or trying to pretend to be. Gladio chuckled.

“And hey, even if you did scare Iggy-” Ignis grimaced at his name in Gladio’s mouth, sure he could feel him mocking him with the way his nickname rolled off of his tongue, “That saw thing was damn impressive.”

Ignis eyed the blood covering Prompto’s chest again, then tore his eyes away, unable to stifle a frustrated noise. He was about to make a note to thank Gladio for easing up on Prompto later, until he heard:

“Maybe you're not totally useless.”

He was about to whip around on Gladio, angry reproachments bunching up on his tongue like a car accident in motion, until he saw Prompto actually laughing. Smiling. And how sad he looked underneath it. He wondered how familiar Prompto was with such admonishments, such casual diminishments. 

Was he always just waiting for the next put-down? The next person who would knock him down and crush him underfoot?

Had he just been waiting for Ignis to discard him?

Prompto loosed a sigh: “I'm not allowed in the car like this, am I?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Ignis spoke without even thinking about what Prompto had said in that horrid, self-deprecating tone, then focused on him, the smile washing off of his face, the hand set on his hip. “We've all been in worse states. Consider it our good fortune that the Regalia is stain-proof.” Prompto shrank down as Ignis concluded: “Did you think I’d make you _walk_?”

Prompto shrugged a little, somehow looking sadder than ever. “If it's what you wanted, it's cool.” His chin sank towards his chest. “I’d understand, I wouldn't want me in the car like this.” He smeared a little of the blood away, then shyly glanced back up towards Ignis. “I know where the outpost and camp are, I could _run_.”

 _Run_. Ignis’ stomach turned. 

_Prompto was going to run. Nothing was keeping him here but himself and Noctis, and the moment he thought he was no longer useful to Noctis…_

“Nobody's walking back to camp.” Noctis spoke before Ignis could recover his dignity, fixing Prompto with a reprimanding scowl as he arrived back from searching for treasure in the nearby area. “We can wash and do laundry at camp, but let's turn the meat in and get our own cookout going.” He grinned at Ignis, then subtly motioned for the others to follow. “I’m thinking steaks. Big cuts.”

Gladio whooped his enthusiasm, and Ignis watched Prompto fall in line behind him without daring to look at him again.

“Prompto,” he said involuntarily, watching his back as he trudged away from him, as the thought of Prompto, alone somewhere without him, frightened and helpless, claimed him. The blood dried all over Prompto’s chest and belly reminded Ignis of just what Prompto thought he had to gain and what Ignis would lose.

_What if he and the baby had gotten hurt?_


	2. And I Knew Its Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis finally sees the full picture, and reaches a conclusion on what he must ask of Prompto going forward.

**2: And I Knew Its Name**

At camp that night, that notion still clung to Ignis, myriad thoughts still haunting him as he stared listlessly at the cooking meat. Every time more of the juices dripped off of the sirloins and dribbled into the coals of the camp stove, Ignis winced at the memory of the blood covering Prompto.

He knew now that he couldn't force Prompto to do what he had initially wanted, especially when it wasn't something he wanted either. The question that came up after that conclusion was, what was he to do now?

Perhaps, he told himself, there was a way to give Prompto some measure of happiness. Find him a safe place, perhaps with Cindy, or maybe with Iris and Jared, and let him stay there, safe and sound. They could manage without him - maybe - and Prompto and his child could be safe.

(And Ignis would never see him again, never know if he was in trouble if he needed him, perhaps die before he got a chance to see Prompto or their child…)

Prompto emerged from the camper just as Ignis put the last steak on, clean, refreshed, hair fluffy and soft-looking, dressed in his spare uniform and carrying his blood-soaked casual clothes. He headed for the laundry basin Ignis had set up and jammed his clothes down in deep - it was how he hid his binders or sports bras from the others. Ignis left the stove to separate Prompto’s things and tend to them first - old habits die hard. However, just as he made to separate Prompto’s bra from his shirt, he found something new. Something solid. Ignis pulled it up into the light, and found a thick black vest Ignis had never seen before.

It was armor. It was body armor. Ignis knew that. And yet, the question escaped Ignis: “What is that?” He frowned curiously, his mouth working. Prompto stopped cold, fear plain in his eyes, but he swallowed hard and schooled his expression in a way that Ignis recognized in his own reflection. 

“Oh. Um. Body armor. Friendly extra layer, y’know?” He put his hand over his breast, speaking a little softer, sadder, resigned: “I just... wanted to get the blood off of it.”

“You got yourself armor?” Gladio had looked up from his book, scowling. Ignis imagined he was frustrated at knowing Prompto had taken action to protect himself, as if this armor meant Prompto didn’t think Gladio could protect him. 

“Since when?” Noctis’ brow was knit up with worry he couldn’t voice, perhaps even guilt that he’d put Prompto in a position where he felt he needed more protection.

Prompto squirmed uncomfortably under the attention, mumbling, “The last time we were in Lestallum, I guess? Not all of us can warp or have years of training in blocking hits or dodging or just back flipping out of danger, and I got a lot of squishy bits in here I'd rather keep unmolested, so it made sense.” He shrugged a little, and Ignis winced as his mind caught on what Prompto _wasn’t_ acknowledging. “It's not crazy heavy, so it only slows me down a little.” 

Ignis bit back a retort of _“That’s not the important part!”_ but Noctis scoffed first.

“Dude. You bought it on the sly?” 

Prompto’s eyes crinkled, as he hid a wince behind his smile. “It's embarrassing how much I suck next to you guys. I couldn't ask.” 

Ignis’ heart ached as he pushed the armor back into the bin. The last time they were in Lestallum was when Prompto had seen the doctor, when he’d found out about he was pregnant. Ignis had given Prompto money for medicine, for what he thought was a mere illness. He could almost imagine Prompto, desperate for some kind of “treatment,” buying the armor and pulling it on where nobody else could see, hiding and protecting their baby in the only way he could think of. 

Ignis washed the armor as thoroughly as he could and hung it to dry with the rest of the wash as dinner cooked. He could do this much. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Prompto carefully disassemble and clean his weapons. How many times had Ignis taken that for granted? Prompto, who always seemed exhausted, who woke many mornings retching and had spent the last several weeks under the strain of their constant traveling, cleaned his guns every night without even a joking complaint. 

Then, he finished without a word to anyone and bounded off towards the caravan again. Ignis traced his path with his eyes, then returned his attention to dinner. He tapped each of the four steaks with his tongs, then pulled all of them onto plates and gave the grill skillet a shake. “The meat needs five minutes to rest,” he announced, “so don’t cut into it yet. I’ll fetch Prompto.” Gladio gave him a quick salute, Noctis nodded, and Ignis approached the caravan.

Prompto was hunched over the table, plucking at something in his palm. Ignis furrowed his brow, tilting his head to try to catch a glimpse of whatever Prompto was poring over. Prompto was engrossed, too set at his task to notice him, and Ignis couldn’t quite see what he was doing. He had no choice but to interrupt.

“Dinner.” 

Prompto jumped, then spun around, clutching three bottles to his chest.“Um. Sure.” He awkwardly shuffled back, trying to adjust his grip on them, and Ignis found himself drawn to the labels and straining to read them. “I'll be there in a…” 

Prompto was edging back. He was about to hide those bottles, Ignis knew, but he had to know: “What are those?”

Prompto’s eyes went wide, shoulders dropping low, like a cat who’d been caught swatting at a caged canary. He put on a guilty smile. “Full'a questions tonight, huh?” Prompto hugged the bottles closer, sliding backwards. Trying to escape. “Just some OTC medicine. Don't worry about it.”

Ignis couldn’t _not_ worry about it. He strode forward and grabbed one of the bottles right out of Prompto’s grasp. Prompto gasped as Ignis’ scanned over the label, inadvertently reading aloud:

“Anti-nausea?”

Prompto winced, but murmured, “I kept puking. It kept delaying us leaving in the mornings. I did something about it.” The morning sickness, Ignis realized. Prompto was covering up his morning sickness with this medicine instead of asking for help. Prompto shrugged, his eyes low, but Ignis couldn’t look at him either. “It's better than it was the first week or so, right?” 

No, Ignis wanted to tell him, it’s not, there’s nothing positive about Prompto trying to hide his symptoms because he thought _it would bother everyone else._

“Same with those headaches I kept getting.” Prompto shifted his arm so Ignis could see the migraine medicine. “I was slowing us down. I took care of it. Nothing to worry about.”

Ignis felt a massive migraine seizing him. “Nothing to-” 

_Nothing to worry about! As if none of us care about you! As if none of us would care to know that you were struggling and might want to do whatever we could to support you!_

Ignis could feel Prompto jerk backwards in the still air, as if Prompto could sense the anger Ignis was straining to keep inside and had imagined it was all directed at him. 

“Yup! Nothing for you to worry about!” Prompto tried to dip around Ignis, speaking loudly and with false cheer so saccharine Ignis’ teeth hurt (or perhaps he was simply grinding them together), but there was no room in the gangway for both of them, so Prompto tried to bend backwards around him, still loudly announcing, “Taking care of myself! Staying out of your way!” He lost balance and tumbled, and the last bottle tumbled out of his arms - “Shit!” - and shattered all over the floor, glass and fat pink pills scattering everywhere. 

Prompto dove down to Ignis’ feet, trying to sweep up the glass with his hands in a maddened panic, as if he feared the consequences if he didn’t fix his mistake faster. Ignis dropped down after him and grabbed his hand.

“Stop! There's glass.” As if that was the real problem. The first and most obvious, certainly? but what about the fact that Prompto was so afraid of him he’d grab broken glass to avoid being scolded for breaking it? What about Prompto hiding his ailments from the others because he thought his discomfort would be a problem for _them_? 

Prompto grimaced, faintly tugging at Ignis' hold to reclaim his hand. “It's fine. I've got it. I'll come eat once I clean this up.”

Ignis' heartstrings constricted at the sorrow drowning Prompto's voice. “Prompto.”

Prompto didn't lift his face, eyelids shuttering over the tears starting to gather in his lashes. “I'm sorry I broke it." Ignis winced at the defeat in his tone. "I'll clean up my own mess.”

Ignis warred with myriad thoughts, things he wanted to say, had to say. _It's not just your mess! This was my mistake too! We can face this together!_

Before Ignis could begin to compose a response, there were padding footbeats up the caravan steps, and Noctis stuck his head in. “Specs? Prompto? Are you com-” He frowned when his gaze landed on Ignis and Prompto. “What happened?”

Ignis _watched_ the shadows in Prompto’s eyes sink behind a mask of a smile, and he turned to Noctis with an embarrassed, sheepish expression. “I was counting my migraine pills and dropped the bottle. I was just saying, I've got the cleanup.” He moved right past Ignis, and Ignis spotted a large piece of the bottle held together by the label. He picked it up and read it:

_Prenatal vitamins._

Vitamins explicitly for the growing baby. Prompto making an effort to nurture and strengthen their baby. He wanted the baby to grow big and strong inside of him, because he _wanted_ their baby. 

Ignis got that flash in his mind’s eye, a kaleidoscope of Prompto with the child they could have. Sitting with them in a tiny bed lined with plush chocobos and couerls, reading out of a big storybook. Holding and hugging them against a lightning-streaked sky to make them feel safe against a long, dark, frightening night. Prompto escorting them to their first day of school with his hand looped around their little one’s, Prompto welcoming them home with a big hug. Prompto so happy in a future that he hoped they could have.

Ignis lost himself for too long in his own imagination, and realized with an ache in his chest that he wasn’t imagining himself in that future. He tried to think of his own place in the picture. Of sitting on their other side on their little bed, reading right along with their storybook. Making them a warm mug of milk to comfort them from their nightmares. Being there for their first day of school, being there to help with homework or troubles. Being right at Prompto’s side for every moment spent nurturing that precious life.

He _wanted_ that.

He loved children. He had always wanted to someday have his own little family. He had, for more than five years, longed to have it with Prompto when the time came. Suddenly the time had come at the worst possible time, but Prompto was facing it with whatever resources they could scrape together. 

No, scratch that. The resources _he_ could scrape together. Because he’d been too afraid to ask Ignis for more, because he feared rejection. Because Ignis had rejected him. 

And here he was, taking the broken bottle from Ignis’ fingers and looking for the dustpan to sweep some of what little he had off of the floor because Prompto had been trying to keep it from Ignis. Because he’d been afraid Ignis might snatch it away.

Ignis somberly passed Prompto the dustpan, resisting the urge to just do it himself and spare his _(pregnant) (ex)_ lover the trouble, but Prompto plastered on a brave face and got down onto the caravan floor to sweep up what remained of the mess. Then, Ignis followed Noctis back out, trying to refocus on the things he had to do.

He had to feed the others, he had to eat for himself, he had to clean the work table, he had to…

He had to apologize.

Ignis could hardly bring himself to look at Prompto when he did come out of the caravan again, so welled up with guilt over the pain he’d caused Prompto that he was afraid to touch him even with his gaze for fear it might cause more. He couldn’t trust himself to even talk to the others over their mild dinnertime banter, caught in his own regret like he’d stepped into a tar pit.

How angry he’d been at Prompto. How rude he’d been, how he’d been so forceful with his demands when he’d known how fraught Prompto was. Looking back at the day, he’d treated Prompto coolly, with distance, when Prompto had probably needed careful handling. He’d let his earlier anger blind him to Prompto’s need, and deafen him to Prompto’s words, or at least their real meaning.

_I figured you wouldn’t want to be tethered to someone like me._

As if Prompto had just been waiting for Ignis to find a reason to leave him.

_It’s been nice, though. Nobody’s ever loved me before, really, or at least made me feel like they did._

Prompto already thought Ignis didn’t love him.

_I won't be your problem anymore._

How long had Prompto just seen himself as another problem? How long had Ignis missed the signs of Prompto’s internal turmoil?

Even now, as Prompto struggled to choke down what had objectively been a well-cooked meal, as the conversation ended with Noctis dozing in his camp chair and Gladio going inside to read before bed, Ignis could see him fighting with himself to clear his plate. He pretended he hadn’t been looking when Prompto finally approached the wash basin with his plate. He put it in the basin, and Ignis saw him reaching to take the dishrag, just like he had in the morning. He was going to wash his own plate _so it wouldn’t be Ignis’ problem._

Ignis reached out to touch Prompto’s wrist, no force, no malice, and spoke as neutrally as he could: “I'll finish the dishes. Go rest.”

Prompto winced despite Ignis’ efforts: “I'm not tired. I can help. Please let me be useful.”

Ignis felt that plaintive missive like a dagger to his chest. “That won’t be necessary.” Ignis wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t burden Prompto with it until he was certain Prompto was ready to process it. “We need to talk.” 

Prompto dropped the plate the rest of the way into the basin like it had burned him and backed away. “We talked yesterday. It's okay. Everything's okay.”

It wasn’t, and Ignis loathed that Prompto was pretending that it was. “Prompto,” he whispered, pouring every bit of gentleness he had in him into that invocation of his name.

Prompto cringed back like it had stung, and mumbled something about leaving Ignis alone before shuffling off towards the edge of the camp, the edge of the firelight: not as far away as he had been the night before, but away. He only stopped for a moment to throw a space blanket from the Armiger over Noctis, then crouched down, facing out towards the wilderness. Ignis kept at his task, considering and reconsidering everything he had to say, and there was so much.

One night of actually thinking about the consequences of his actions, of what they faced, of everything all the options meant, had changed Ignis’ perception of the situation. He was still right, logically. He had reason on his side. However, what he didn’t have was Prompto, and he hated that, more than he thought he could imagine, more than he believed possible. He felt bereft even with him still in sight, and could almost see Prompto teetering on the edge of just standing, starting to walk away, then running, and never turning back, and Ignis would lose him and everything he meant, everything he was to him, and the value of Prompto was immeasurable.

This was no longer a matter of being _right_.

With the dishes done, Ignis turned from the kitchen towards the fire, to where Noctis still slept soundly in the camp chair, where Prompto was still sitting cross-legged at the edge of the firelight. Ignis stopped for a moment to fix the blanket on Noctis’ chest, smiling fondly for a moment to think that even in emotional despair, Prompto could be so thoughtful, so caring towards his friend. Then, he turned towards Prompto again. As he approached, he could see now that Prompto was looking at his photographs on his camera, like he did most nights, often with the rest of them crowded around and looking over his shoulders to see what had caught his eye that day. He hadn’t even been offering for the past several days, Ignis realized. Instead of commenting on the good angle or laughing unapologetically for taking more than a few selfies, he heard Prompto talking quietly:

“Y-you and me, we could go all these places me and your dad went someday.” He was talking to the baby. Prompto was telling the baby about the photographs, Ignis realized, as a heart-shattering ache settled in his breast. “I can… I can tell you all about your dad. I'll tell you how loyal he was. How much I'll miss him…”

He was going to run. He was going to leave Ignis right now, and if Ignis ever saw him again it might be in the cell of an Imperial prison or in a shallow grave with the rest of the prisoners of war, and Ignis would never meet the child to whom Prompto was already telling stories.

This was not the time to think of living happily ever after, but if Prompto wasn't in Ignis' future, his life wouldn't be worthy of being considered _living_ at all.

“Prompto?” Prompto’s spine went ramrod-straight, and his knuckles went white around the edges of the camera. However, he didn’t turn around. Could Ignis even blame him for acting like a beaten dog? Almost every time he'd spoken to Prompto today he'd been shouting. Ignis bit his lip and, as conciliatory as could be, tried again. “Prompto. I…” His voice caught, but he choked the words out, “I know you can hear me. Will you please speak with me?”

Prompto audibly inhaled, then spoke with forced cheer: “What can I do for ya, Ignis?”

“I…” Ignis hesitated, then took a step closer, committing. “I had wanted to talk. Perhaps, to follow up on our previous conversation.”

“Y-yeah?” The stutter in Prompto’s voice was heartbreaking, and Ignis could feel the anxiety rolling off of him. “Hey, look, I got it covered, okay?” He waved a trembling hand, pretending to brush his trouble off when he was still so clearly in their grip. “I told you, it's fine. I’ll deal with anything that comes up, and I’ll keep out of your way, and when I do get in the way, I’ll get out of the way. You don’t have to -”

“No, no, I do.” Ignis bit the words off, feeling his lower jaw tremble already. What if Prompto wouldn’t hear him out? Was it possible that someone so emotionally open could have shut them off from Ignis so soon? “I must. I...” He swallowed hard, searching one more time for the best, most diplomatic words he could find: “Please, permit me… I said some… some things I did not mean.” Except he had, at the time, had he not? “Things I don’t intend.”

Prompto had gone still, finger still hovering over the trigger button. Ignis could tell he was listening. He had to make every word count: “I was unkind to you today. I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about…” Ignis hesitated, trying not to go too deep, too fast. “Things, quite a lot of things.” He struggled for a moment, knowing he had to explain but loathing himself more and more as his apology came together: “I was angry, first at you, but mostly at myself, and perhaps I’ve not comported myself the best as I’ve tried to negotiate that anger, but that’s no excuse.” He put his hand to his breast in a bow. “I offer my deepest apologies for my calumny today. I -” His voice cracked, and he bowed lower. “I’m sorry.”

Prompto’s spine went somehow straighter, surprise plain in his posture alone, and Ignis felt himself crumpling deeper as Prompto tried to play it off. “Oh, um, it’s okay. I get that you were still angry, and it’s okay if you still are.” He forced a chuckle. “I mean, come on, I know I messed up, when don't I mess up-”

Ignis clenched his hand over his heart. He couldn’t let that stand and cut him off: “Prompto, please don’t self-deprecate my apology into invalidity; I’m being as sincere as a person can.” He realized what he’d done, and tried to even out his tones again. “I - I’m not here for a mere apology.” There was more, so much more, Ignis was beyond _apology_ at this point, an apology could never be enough. “That is but a fraction of what I have to say, but please don’t think I am any less ingenuous for opening with that sentiment.” He wrung his hands together, pleading much like Prompto had the night before. “I meant to apologize for… for neglecting you again.” He took another trembling step closer, though Prompto was forcing himself still, keeping himself from turning around. Prompto wouldn’t even _look_ at him. Did he even deserve Prompto’s attention? If he’d been paying attention to Prompto, he would have noticed what was going on weeks earlier. “You've needed support that I've not given.” The true crime was that Prompto had clearly placed Ignis on a pedestal so far above him that Prompto hadn’t dared ask. “I'm deeply sorry you've felt a need to keep your own counsel. How can I convince you to confide in me?”

“I’m fine. Really.” Prompto’s voice was flat, but he tried to force some of his characteristic devil-may-care cheer. “I get nobody's gonna care for me but me. I'm a big boy.”

“We should care for each other.” Ignis bit the words off. How could Prompto have ever developed the notion that the others wouldn’t help care for him if he needed it? How could Ignis have let him believe it?! “We're comrades and… f-friends.” More, so much more, but how could Ignis claim that when Prompto didn’t think he cared?! “Please, don't hide your pain or worries from me. I only ever want to…” He struggled to speak, his knees going weak. “I… I must address…” How could Ignis dare speak about it when he’d so viciously rejected him before? “The… the matter we discussed last night. I said some truly unforgivable things, and I -”

Prompto cut him off this time: “It’s okay.” Ignis trembled, as Prompto gathered himself up. “Look, I get it, this is kind of a bombshell. I wasn’t ready either.” Prompto choked out another weak laugh. “I’m kinda lucky, I guess. I get to make this choice.” Ignis noticed his fingers flit back to the navigation, flicking through the images again. “You never really did, not about what you’re doing now, and not about, well, me.” A lump swelled in Ignis’ throat as he caught a glimpse of the viewfinder: old photographs Prompto had taken before they’d left the city, all prominently featuring _him_. Ignis could see him sitting with Gladio and Noctis, sharing cherry custards, talking to Noctis about something or other. Prompto stopped on that image, staring down into the camera. “It’s like you said, your duty to Noct is your life. Sure, you liked me, but Noct, well, he's above just like.”

Ignis felt his heart go cold. _Prompto thought Ignis’ care for him stopped at_ _like_.

Ignis wanted to shout it from the rooftops some days, how dearly he loved Prompto! And certainly he loved Noctis too, but that was a love of a different color, more than words could say! And yet, as Prompto laid it out, sparing a glance past Ignis towards Noctis, before turning back around and away from Ignis, Ignis couldn’t find the words to counter him: “I love Noct too, and I’d do anything for him, but at the end of the day, my life is just that, mine.” Ignis winced at that, but Prompto sounded, in his own way, just as logical and cool as he had thought of himself the night before. “You're his adviser. He's your prince. I made a promise, but you swore an oath.” He clicked to another photograph, a selfie Prompto had taken of the two of them together. “I'm a secondary, maybe even tertiary concern to you.” 

_No._ That was what Prompto had heard, and Ignis couldn’t take it back. 

Ignis inhaled sharply, trembling from head to toe, but Prompto quickly waved a hand. “No, it's okay, I get it. We were together, it was nice, but I knew Noct would have to come first someday. You can't take care of me and all my crap, Noct's way more important!”

Ignis could _hear_ the horrible smile. It was in his voice, in that awful laugh he forced out. 

“I’m only here ‘cause I chose to follow Noct,” Prompto went on, almost convincing Ignis that he was calm and accepting. However, Ignis knew he was pretending for his sake. He could still hear the horrible smile. “You didn’t get a choice, because you already made it a long time ago. I feel like, maybe if you did have a choice, things could be different, but it’s not, and I’m just gonna have to live with it.”

“I-!” Ignis tried to counter him, but he couldn’t wrangle with the words anymore. It was too much. How could he possibly say a word to relieve Prompto’s spirit when he’d unknowingly betrayed it for years? 

Prompto’s shoulders sank where he sat, back still trembling. “You, um, sound upset.” He was shaking. Ignis was shaking. “Please don't be upset.” Even now, he still sounded so mild and gentle, actually trying to soothe Ignis. As if Ignis _deserved_ comfort. “I'm not your problem anymore, so you don't have to worry. It’s okay, Ignis.”

“Iggy.” 

Ignis had said it without thinking, but hearing Prompto use his given name made it sound like a curse, like he was lower than hell itself. However, now Prompto was turning around, and Ignis felt like crying at the look in his eyes, but he had to speak. “You’ve… you’ve called me Iggy practically since we met.” He wrung his hands together tighter. “It’s a term of endearment, isn’t it? All of your pet names for me are.” He wanted to be dear to Prompto. He wanted to make him feel loved in return, because Ignis had always loved to hear his name on Prompto’s lips. He made his name sound like laughter, and Ignis loved to hear him laugh. He ached to see Prompto on the verge of tears just speaking to him. “You… you can still call me that… I want you to... I beg of you…” Prompto was still staring at him, unmoved, not reacting. “Prompto, I…”

“No,” Prompto whispered, and Ignis saw him shaking his head, wearing fear as plainly as daylight. “No, please. I can’t. I’m so tired, I can't have another argument!" Ignis' heart stopped, guilt wracking him as Prompto pleaded mercy when Ignis was the one in the wrong! His voice wobbled as Ignis tried to regain the will to speak. "Don’t… don’t…”

Prompto still teetered on tears, but Ignis knew he could alleviate his suffering, and stifled his emotions to state himself clearly: “Please permit me to try again.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, seeing everything he had to risk flash before his eyes like he was living his dying moments. Prompto and their child. Prompto alone in a cell. Ignis living the rest of his days like a man slowly bleeding to death, knowing that he’d lost him and constantly aware of the half of his heart he'd lost. “This is too important, please, let me try this conversation again!”

“Ig-”

Ignis was overcome. He threw himself to the ground, to his hands and knees, lowering himself before Prompto to impress on him just where they stood. “It’s a baby, Prompto!” Prompto gasped, but Ignis’ plea was crushed out of him and forced tears with it. “It’s… it’s our child. I never thought anything like this would - but it’s happened, and…”

“I can’t kill them, please don’t make me!”

“Prompto, _love_ , please hear me out!” He poured every emotion he usually restrained into those words. “Yes, my _duty_ to Noctis comes first! But! Noctis… Noct… He would call me foolish for restraining myself from holding onto one of the best things I’ve had come into my life.” He curled his fingers against the earth. I’d tear my own heart out if I even genuinely tried.” Prompto took a shuddering breath nearby, and Ignis forced himself to look up at him. “Prompto, my love, my only, I’ve had time to think and I’ve found that for all the bloody logic I can come up with to justify saying what I thought I knew was right, none of it stands in the face of you, and the fact that you’re carrying my child, and I was so wrong.” He put his face back down into the earth, finally as low as he felt. “I apologize, from the depths of my very soul, that my foolishness wounded you.”

Prompto wasn’t answering, and Ignis despaired. “I'm not heartless. It sickened me to tell you we needed to end it.” He tried to clear his tears, but they only flowed faster. “I was afraid at the thought of everything that could go wrong, I thought it better to spare you the risk! But… you're frightened too, and even so, you're brave enough to face this.” He tried to wipe his tears away, to no avail. “I was a coward, demanding we take the easier way out rather than facing the gauntlet in hopes we could gain something wonderful. The timing couldn’t be worse and I have nothing to offer you by way of safety or security, but if this is something you want, then I want it, too.” He shut his eyes for a moment, imagining them, their big smile, shining, bright eyes. Boy or girl was of no importance, only that they were theirs. “I want _them,_ Prompto.”

Prompto still wasn’t answering him. Ignis steeled himself. “You said this decision was yours, and you’re right! I'm sorry I tried to force your hand or change your mind! Whatever decision you make, I will support you, but please let me be a part of our child’s life! They're mine, please let me take responsibility for the two of you! I want to take care of you!”

“Ig… Iggy…” Prompto swallowed thickly. “I knew you were right, y’know?” His face and eyes worked with pain. “I know I’m being irrational. Stupid’s what I’m best at.”

“Please don’t say such things, darling.” Ignis’ heart pinched in his breast, and he crawled towards Prompto. Hadn’t he hurt Prompto enough? Ignis could never watch Prompto suffer any harm, let alone with self-inflicted pain.

“It's true, though.” Ignis shook his head, but Prompto’s eyes were low. “I know you think I’m being silly, keeping them.” Ignis watched Prompto covered his navel. “I just … they’re getting big in here already, y’know? I heard them. I can feel them.” Prompto’s fond little smile ached places of Ignis’ heart that Ignis didn’t think could possibly hurt. “I keep… I keep talking to them. I know they can’t hear me yet. I know they wouldn’t even know if I… ended them.”

“You don’t want to, though.” Ignis countered him swiftly. “You said as much.” He shook his head, shuddering. “I don’t want you to end it, either. I didn't before.” 

Prompto bit his lip, then mumbled, “You were... pretty adamant about killing them.”

“And it made me sick!” Ignis couldn’t impress it on him more adamantly: “I thought we had no other viable choice. I didn’t even think about how such an action - such a _suggestion_ would hurt you. I’ll never be able to forgive myself, nor apologize to you enough for trying to convince you that I truly wanted that.” He choked back a sob, and began to spell out his regrets: “I frightened you!” He scraped at his own face, as if he could echo the pain he’d caused Prompto. “You thought - however briefly - that I might harm you in retaliation! I loathed myself at the very notion! I can’t live with myself, knowing that.” The force of his confession strained at him, and his voice came watery and weak. “I never thought you'd consider leaving.” 

Prompto’s trembling almost looked like an extended shrug. “I thought you all would throw me out. I'm useless anyway, so -”

“You’re not!” Ignis spat reflexively. “I would never reject you like that. Never. Not I, and Noctis would rather have you at his side rather than anywhere else. And Gladio -” He wavered, doubting, then denied himself the notion: “No, and even if he tried, he'd answer to Noctis and I.” He shook it off, and bowed his head again. “But this is more than that. You said you'd throw yourself to the Empire if you thought it meant a chance at keeping them. You’d choose the damned Empire over me because being a prisoner of war was more favorable a notion than an abortion!” Prompto flinched, and Ignis tried to soften himself. “I tormented myself when you didn’t come back last night.” He shivered as he thought of it. “You ran from me.” The memory of Prompto in the dirt, much like he was now, weeping, seized Ignis and made him shake again. “I found you crying at the edge of the haven…” He inhaled sharply, trying not to sob. “I was so afraid you'd run I didn't dare speak to you for fear of spurning you over the edge… I can’t stand to look at myself knowing you would have willingly run into the night to protect our child from me! I don't want that!” 

“Me neither.” 

It was the first truly conciliatory thing Prompto had said - the first sign that Ignis was getting through to him, that Prompto was listening, that Ignis had a ghost of a chance. “I wasn't thinking of how badly my words could hurt you. I can only atone with everything I have and beg for another chance to say what I should have said.” He could no longer resist his urge to embrace Prompto again, and reached out to take Prompto’s hands. “Please, love, please, just say you’ll give me a chance to take care of you and this one. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, even if you can’t love me anymore.” He crawled one step closer, and Ignis’ hand bumped Prompto’s chest, just under the breastbone, and Ignis realized with wonder that it was firm, solid - the baby was just under his thumb, and he extended his thumb to just stroke the bump. “How… how many weeks are you?”

Prompto bit his lip again, then mumbled, “Um… fourteen or fifteen probably.” He wasn’t making a move to brush Ignis off, and hope bloomed. “I started rationing my meds after Insomnia fell, and that was like four months ago now, and the doctor in Lestallum said the heartbeat sounded really strong, so…”

Heartbeat. Prompto said he’d _heard_ their heartbeat. Prompto had been unknowingly nurturing the baby that long, and he’d heard their beating heart for himself. It was with that in mind that he had protected them since then, with the knowledge they were alive clutched close to his breast and dearly protected. 

“And you’ve been so brave. You’ve taken such good care of them, look at how they’re growing. May I touch?” It was vital that Ignis had permission. Prompto had been so shy about being touched when they first came together, as if he were afraid both that Ignis might find something he disliked on Prompto’s skin or uncomfortable with his own physical existence. Perhaps both. However, Prompto exhaled slowly and nodded, and Ignis shifted forward to caress the firm little bump where their child was growing. 

Ignis thought of a child smiling the same way Prompto did, and clamped down on the urge to pull Prompto into his arms and never let him go.

Prompto was trembling under his hands now, and Ignis hushed him gently: “You’re shaking, love.” He gave himself an inch of permission and put his other arm around Prompto’s shoulder to draw him into his chest without dislodging his hand from Prompto’s belly. “We’ll have to be so careful with you...”

Prompto tearfully mumbled promises to be careful, to take care of himself, but Ignis wasn’t here for that. Prompto had done enough of taking care of himself in the last five weeks, _thank you very much_ , it was no longer his turn. Ignis was already reforming everything he had to do for the rest of his life. Prompto was his family now, wedding ring or no, and Ignis would protect him with the same dedication he put towards everything else important in his life, only now, doubled.

There was just one last thing to set in stone: just where Ignis stood.

“You'll let me help, won't you?” Prompto lifted his head a little as Ignis drew him closer to his chest, both afraid of what Prompto would say and knowing he needed to hear it. “You don't have to forgive me, or even love me, but please say you'll let me try to make this up to you.”

Love me, Ignis wanted to ask him, love me, just as you have, just as I have loved you.

Instead, he found tears in his eyes as he lingered against Prompto, waiting for an answer, or one final rejection, and pulled Prompto just a little closer as if he might never get the chance again. “I need to hear those words, my precious one.”

Prompto finally accepted his embrace, wrapping his arm around Ignis’ back as well. “Yeah, Igs. Of course. If that's what you want, you don't have to ask.” He pressed his eyes into Ignis’ shoulder, and Ignis held him even tighter. “I’ll work on forgiving you.” His chest heaved with a suppressed sob, and Ignis tried to hold him even tighter. “I love you,” Prompto whispered, as if it were some frightening secret. Ignis’ heart instead soared, and Ignis thrilled in Prompto’s forgiveness, that Prompto could still love him after all this. Prompto smiled reluctantly, lips curved against Ignis’ shoulder, as he murmured, “I know it's gonna be hard, but I wanna share this with you.”

“I don’t deserve you, love.” Ignis bowed his head to kiss Prompto’s forehead. At some point he’d sank from crawling on his knees to sitting on his heels, and he eased Prompto against him, incrementally tightening his embrace. “We’ll make this work one way or another.” He glanced to Prompto’s face, only to see tears streaking his cheeks. “Just like somehow, I'll find a way to make up for you spending so much as a second, let alone nearly a day, thinking I loved you any less for this.”

“Y-you love me?”

Prompto’s surprise was an electric shock - Ignis still hadn't convinced him. He didn't let his surprise show, instead admonishing himself: “You sound so surprised, my love. Have I not said it enough?” Prompto’s eyes went wide, his frame still in Ignis’ embrace, and Ignis schooled himself, making clear that Ignis was the one at fault here: “An unforgivable oversight. I will have to remind you much more frequently.” He took both of Prompto’s hands and laced their fingers, whispering it like a promise: “Yes, I love you dearly, more every time I look at you, every moment I speak to you, and I'll prove it in this and every day for the rest of our lives.”

Prompto had been Ignis’ sunlight ever since he’d come to know him, and a world without him was dark. If Prompto was doubting Ignis’ care for him, it was proof he had much to do, and he did. They were going to be fathers in a few short months. Ignis had to save the world before then, or at least make a safe space for Prompto and his child to live where they could thrive. Ignis had to make up for weeks of neglect, and if that meant making sure Prompto was reminded of Ignis' love in every single way Ignis could conceive of from now until eternity, so be it.

When he finally coaxed Prompto to sleep that night after a long cuddle by the fire, when Prompto settled into the caravan bed beside Noctis and Ignis laid beside Gladio, Ignis didn’t sleep. He watched Prompto breathing, to be self-assured he would remain, and when he did sleep again and woke before the others to see Prompto still curled in bed, he stopped to smooth his hair and kiss his brow and whisper, “Good morning, my darlings, I love you both.”

Ignis made sure to whisper “I love you” whenever they had to part or reunite. If Prompto didn’t hear or acknowledge all of them, Ignis didn’t mind, he was sure it was set in his subconscious. Ignis wanted Prompto to know he would be left with adoration and be greeted with love on their reunion. Ignis held Prompto’s hand in the car, at the hotel, under the table at dinner.

When they saw the doctor in the morning and Ignis actually laid eyes on his and Prompto’s child for the first time, a tiny bean of a baby no bigger than his palm, then heard their racing little heart thumping through the stall, he felt emotion overrun him like it hadn’t since the first time Prompto had held his hand out to Ignis. Prompto, too, was rapt in the image on screen, on the echo of their baby’s pulse and Ignis was certain he wasn’t watching or listening when he said it to them:

“Hello, my darling sunshine child," he whispered, "I love you and your father. I’m going to save the world for you.”

The world would never be the same again, but now Ignis believed it would only get brighter.


End file.
